This couldn’t be what her grandma had warned her of . . . It wouldn’t hurt to read just a few pages, right? Melissa opened the dusty book. The first page had been written on. A single inscription ran across the page in red ink. They are real. “Melissa, honey,” her mom said, coming into the room with a teacup in hand. “I made you some . . . ” She paused near the door, eyes rounding. The cup tumbled from her hand, shattering on the wooden floor. And an inhuman cry erupted from her mom’s mouth.